An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Bonus fic written for the 2019 @fic-or-treat exchange for the amazingly wonderful @bexterrr!
I couldn’t choose just one story idea - so here... have another! :)
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Alistair/Cullen Rutherford, Alistair & Cullen Rutherford
Characters: Alistair (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford
Additional Tags: Friendship/Love, Falling In Love, How it all began, Pumpkin Carving 101, Cullen takes a chance, Alistair needs a friend, Alistair has a crush, Total Fluff, Sweet boys making friends
Summary:
Alistair has never carved a pumpkin before, the new boy at the Abby takes him under his wing and shows him the ropes.
Something Beautiful and New
He watched from the edge of the yard as the other kids carved their strange-shaped gourds. It was an unusual tradition that happened every year and Alistair could never wrap his head around why they did it. All Hallows Eve was a couple days away. He knew it had something to do with the holiday, but it wasn’t something he’d ever celebrated back in Redcliff, or anything anyone had taken the time to explain to him in the last four years since he came to live at the Abby. So he watched from the shadows and tried to piece together the perplexing ritual.
As Alistair peered out from his hiding spot, he noticed the new kid, Cullen, off to one side, studiously carving away at his own pumpkin. At three years older than the other first years and not in any classes with the students his own age, Cullen didn’t spend much time socializing with his peers. Like Alistair, he mostly kept to himself. Unlike Alistair, he was respected in his request for space and solitude.
Alistair watched in fascination while Cullen effortlessly sliced into the soft flesh of his large orange orb. His golden curls moving in the cool autumn breeze, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth; his looks were striking, handsome. This wasn’t the first time that Alistair found his gaze lingering a little bit longer than it probably should, and probably wouldn’t be the last. There wasn’t much that he found enjoyment in, so as long as he wasn’t hurting anyone else, Alistair would take what little joy he could find in his day; and he quite enjoyed watching Cullen.
Unsure of how long he’d actually been lurking, Alistair was surprised when Cullen looked up and smiled at him.
He looked over his own shoulder to see if maybe there was someone behind him, but no… he was in the shadows, in a corner; there wasn’t any one else around.
Cullen’s smile grew wider as he set his knife down and waved.
Surprised, Alistair pointed to his chest and mouthed the word… “me?”
Cullen threw his head back with a joyful laugh and waved again, beckoning him over.
Unsure of what awaited him, whether it was the usual ridicule and rebuke that the other recruits dished out to him, or something else entirely, Alistair took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and slowly made his way over.
“Um… hi,” Alistair said, crouching down next to Cullen so no one else could hear.
“Hi.” Cullen smiled.
He didn’t smile often, but looking at the radiance spreading across his face, Alistair thought that a pity. He would do anything to see that look on Cullen’s face as often as possible.
“Did you… um. I’m sorry if my watching bothered you.” Alistair finished, lamely.
“You weren’t bothering me. I was just wondering, how come you aren’t carving with everyone else?”
Alistair looked down and away. “I don’t really fit in with… anyone really. How come you’re not carving with them?”
Cullen shrugged, seemingly unaffected. “I don’t really fit in with any of them, either. I came here because I want to become a Templar, not to make friends.”
Alistair sighed, standing. “I’m sorry I bothered you, then. I’ll just…” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder and started to turn away.
The uncertainty in his voice gave Alistair pause, so he crouched back down with a tentative smile. “Okay,” he whispered.
The soft look Cullen gave him helped Alistair relax a little bit more. Encouraged, Alistair picked up Cullen’s knife and handed it to him. “Is it okay if I continue to watch from here?”
Cullen shrugged. “It’s probably easier to see up close anyway.”
When Cullen returned to his carving, Alistair sat and watched, fascinated. The silence between them was comfortable, which, in and of itself was startling for Alistair. It was better than standing in the corner where he couldn’t see very well, though. So far, Cullen created two triangular shaped eyes and the starting of a jagged mouth.
Once the mouth was completed, Alistair asked, “Why do you make the faces scary?”
Cullen looked up, surprised. “You don’t know?” he asked. “Have you never carved a jack-o-lantern before?”
Alistair shrugged. “Never had the occasion. This wasn’t something we celebrated where I grew up in Redcliff. Well… it was something that was celebrated, just not something I was ever invited to participate in,” he finished with a resigned sigh.
Cullen frowned. “But, what about here? You’ve been here for how many years?”
“I’m in my fourth year. But it’s not…” Alistair looked over his shoulder at the group of recruits studiously ignoring them. “Surely you’ve seen how they treat me. Why would any of them take the time to explain this to me? Plus if they knew that I didn’t know… it would just give them one more thing to tease me about.” His eyes grew wide with realization. “And the moment they realize that you’re talking to me, they’ll probably do the same to you. It would probably be better if I just… go.”
Cullen placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Alistair leaned into it, the warmth and comfort reminding him how few touches of affection he’d experienced in his life. When he opened his eyes, Cullen was staring at him, not uncomfortably, but more like he was searching for something, trying to figure him out.
“Would you like to carve one too?” Cullen finally asked. “We can talk about it while we work.” He handed Alistair an unclaimed gourd that was sitting nearby.
Pulling out his own knife, Alistair settled-in next to Cullen.
“I hope you don’t mind getting dirty,” Cullen said. “Cleaning out the inside is the messiest part.” He showed Alistair where to cut around the stem then how to scoop out the seeds and pulp.
As they sat together carving, Alistair listened intently while Cullen explained that All Hallows Eve was a holiday where the veil was the thinnest and sometimes spirits crossed over to visit their loved ones. But sometimes, other spirits would cross over and the jack-o-lanterns were placed in windows and near doorstops to scare the evil entities away.
Alistair soaked up every ounce of information Cullen was willing to share. From celebrating the end of the harvest and welcoming in the new year, to wearing costumes and carving jack-o-lanterns, he was a rapt and willing student. He may not have ever celebrated All Hallows Eve before, but Cullen seemed happily determined to guide him through this holiday and excited to teach him about all the ones still to come.
Several hours, and several gourds later, Alistair and Cullen had become fast friends and already made plans to meet the next day to start working on their costumes and masks.
If All Hallows Eve shepherded in the new year, then this was definitely the start of something beautiful and new for these young men.
Notes:
Thank you to @tatteredleaf for beta reading for me (even though she was away at a writing convention at the time). Thank you so much for squeezing a little time in when you were so busy!
And thank you, once again, to @cullenlovesmen for helping me (inadvertently) work through my story ideas. ;)
If Varric wanted to make Garrett Hawke sound like a hero, he couldn’t possibly tell Cassandra the truth.
A duel made Hawke sound like the brave saviour of Kirkwall; the lone survivor of a heroic battle that was fierce and tense and very much life-or-death that finished with Hawke just about emerging victorious, and the Qunari leaving Kirkwall in disgrace.
In truth, it was Hawke who was (almost) disgraced: the man had offered himself to the Arishok to take in front of all the nobles gathering there, a “noble sacrifice” that shredded Hawke’s dignity, didn’t slake his secret thirst for the Arishok as much as he hoped, and left his arse feeling far more tender than even Hawke himself expected -- but, having satisfied himself with the humiliation of one of the city’s most prominent residents, the Arishok declared that victory was in the Qun after all; and he and his men left the city without further incident.
They declared Hawke Champion of Kirkwall anyway, for stopping the Qunari invasion and ending the war -- and nothing more was said about how exactly he’d achieved that. Not in polite company, anyway.
—
Send me a number and I’ll write a micro story using the word or phrase
text overlaid atop the dragon age logo that reads "@bexterrr is a master comedian! Their funny shorts never fail to make me giggle. And they are still capable of really heartfelt and meaningful fics. I’m really glad we get to enjoy their work."
- RIDE: from an original fiction piece! because that’s the only place i could find the word
Ryan reached out and put his hand on Delaney’s shoulder, rubbing gently with his thumb. Delaney had to suppress a small shiver at the way Ryan’s thumb just barely grazed his neck with the movement. Quickly, before Ryan could comment on it, Delaney blurted, “Thanks for the ride.”
- SET: from what will be the near end of Light in the Dark
He didn’t know what he expected it to say. It’s not like there was any string of words that could set things right. But he did expect something different than the one line.
- CALM: from that same original thing, because apparently there’s no such thing as calm in my fics
Maggie provided a few things for them to arm themselves with. Salt, iron, and the advice to stay calm; the ghost would be more active, more violent if it could feed off of their negative emotions.
- BRUSH(ed): from the previously mentioned story that hasn’t seen the light of day yet…
Dorian knew he had no right to be, but he’s almost offended. Yes, he just drove a metaphorical dagger right through Cullen’s heart, but he didn’t expect to be brushed off afterwards. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” he questioned.
Jonah cradled Anders’ head as Justice materialized, patchy and transparent but very much independent. “He is stronger than even know you, Hawke, but there is only so much room in one man’s soul. The song of the darkspawn is the howl of an army against just the two of us. Anders is strong, but he is also terribly tired.”
The spirit’s words barely registered as Jonah waited for Anders’ chest to rise.
Fellow INFP Bi! Hello. I don't suppose you'd sell the grey warden hat pattern?
Hi hi fellow bi! I actually do sell the pattern! I have most of the ones I made available on Ravelry, including the Grey Warden pattern, for a cool $5.
15, 43, 20 for the drabbles.wither combines or not, and any pairing as I have no idea what your OC's or pairings are just yet :D
20. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”
Cassmos. bc of tumblr redirect issues, which others have reported with my blog, no cut; I apologize. Additionally: cw: pregnancy, cw: miscarriage mention, cw: blood magic
Deals with demons always came to fruition. Only rarely how the mortal who made them expected them to. Cassandra had been a child when Pride approached her and broke her out of the cage. Demons usually had no interest in children, but Pride had once been Compassion and Compassion always heard tears silenced in the mortal world.
When Amos first listened to Cassandra’s account of her deal, he felt a chill in his heart. One day, when the situation was most dire, Pride would take his... his everything. She was all the warmth in his life and let him be more truly himself than he had never had the chance to be. He could talk of philosophy and history with her. She saw him for what he was and wanted to be, not for what other people made him.
She had married him to give him prestige and make his life easier in Tevinter. She was carrying their child.
And she was dying from it.
Amos never commented on the way red light glowed from under her eyelids when she slept. She knew Pride was courting her in her dreams well enough; she didn’t need his reminder. He felt every pained twitch in her body, held tight against him as she was.
He barely rested himself, anymore. He couldn’t get more than an hour before waking up and checking she was still breathing. When dawn’s light diffused through the curtains, Amos pressed his face into what was left of her hair. His hand felt almost cold against her belly, hot as it was with barely-effective healing magic. “You need to wake up, Carissima.” He felt their child kick and then her wince. “I can’t do this without you.”
She didn’t wake. Wouldn’t, not for some time, but still he begged her. Pride would ensure their child made it to life. He would have to ensure she did.
